Speaking to a Ghost in the Ringing Silence

I tried to speak with the ghost of my past, but the silent ringing muted my speech.

Post-mortem and indecisive, how it lingered in my thoughts to be played and re-played until the discs of words became a jumble of impersonations, and I would lose the interest to see the lighted aura of this ghost's shadow.

In the dark-half of the blue moon, I traversed the distance that kept me waiting, and the ghost sounded whispers of an unwanted awakening.  And I, too lost in translation, forgot the lyrics to an old song composed for deaf ears.

The rain melted away my distress, and in dialling the forgotten digits, the ghost of my past answered, "hello?"  But only silence replied throughout the commotion, and in the black encasing that parked by my drive-way, I stayed awakened by disbelief.